


my heart was never pure

by alinaandalion



Series: our choices seal our fate [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alinaandalion/pseuds/alinaandalion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There really are no innocent parties in this mess.</p><p>Post Episode 2x16 "The Miller's Daughter" and AU from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart was never pure

**Author's Note:**

> I've been more than a little frustrated at basically everything on this show so I wrote this as a post-episode sort-of fix. It was really, really hard to make it all work, and I still don't think this is my best work, but this is what I ended up with. This is my first venture into this fandom so con-crit is certainly welcome as I don't think I've really gotten all their voices down yet.

“I’ve lived too long with pain.  I won’t know who I am without it.”  
_\- Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card_  
  
“All she wants is oblivion.  Temporary but complete:  a night with no stars, a road running straight to a cliff edge.  A termination.”  
_\- Life Before Man by Margaret Atwood_

 

 

  
  
  
Snow’s father throws a ball in Regina’s honor after they reach the summer palace.  The night air is still cool, tinged with the moisture from the rain earlier that day.  Everything glitters in the dark, silk dresses whispering against the ballroom floor as couples move in whorls of color, and Snow can see Regina sitting on her father’s left, Cora on the other side of Regina.  
  
Lingering in the shadows, Snow stares at Regina, still in awe of her, hardly believing that this woman, someone so brave and kind and wise, is going to be her stepmother.  She swallows hard, once, remembers her mother then raises her chin and strides across the ballroom to stand before Regina.  
  
“Dance with me,” Snow says with a smile, holding out her small hand to Regina.  
  
Regina steps down from the dais and takes Snow’s hand, red lips curved into a small smile.  The crowd on the floor parts before them as they stride forward, matching figures in white.   
  
As Regina twirls Snow in a circle, Snow closes her eyes and lets the warmth of the room wash over her, thinks of the future and sees nothing but brightness and change.  
  
Laughing, Snow spins back into Regina and wraps her arms around Regina’s waist.  
  
“You’re going to be so happy here,” Snow tells her in a conspiratorial murmur.  
  
Regina pulls a snowdrop from her dark hair and tucks it into Snow’s curls.  “Yes, I am.”  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
Emma doesn’t think, can’t think, she just barges into the apartment and stops short at the sight of a weeping Mary Margaret and a pacing David.  
  
“What happened?”  
  
Those are the first words out of her mouth because all she found at the pawn shop was Gold calmly polishing his dagger and cleaning the blood off his fingers, a smirk on his face when Emma asked about where Regina and Cora had gone.  
  
_“Perhaps to bury her mother.”_  
  
And something was so wrong, so very wrong about the fact that _he_ was standing there with something like triumph gleaming in his eyes that Emma knew then, knows now, that some things don’t change, never change, and she could feel the rage build inside her, pressing against the backs of her eyes, sparking across her fingertips until it took _everything_ she had to walk out without plunging that dagger in his heart.  
  
Mary Margaret looks up at Emma with puffy eyes and she says, “Cora is dead.  I killed—no, _Regina_ killed her.  And it’s all my fault.”  
  
Shaking her head, Emma kneels down until she is face to face with Mary Margaret (her _mother_ , and that is still something so very foreign) and says as calmly as she can, “I need to know what exactly happened.  What did you do?”  
  
David twitches at that, one of his hands lifting as if to offer comfort to his wife then falling back to his side.  That is how Emma knows.  Something has gone wrong.  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
Regina’s legs tremble as she walks down the aisle to the man who is to be her new husband, her new life, Snow White beaming at her and Regina feels the bile crawl up her throat, the blinding rage that chokes her and makes the world go black around the edges.  
  
People bow down to her as she passes, a wave of people falling to their knees, and no, this isn’t what she wanted, she has never wanted this, but this is what she has been given.  
  
Daniel is dead and buried in a grave only marked by the tree where they went together, where he first kissed her, where she first looked at him and thought _this is what love is supposed to be_ , and there is nothing out there for her now.  
  
There is nothing for her here but the life her mother has left for her, a mother she shoved through a mirror and into another world for her freedom.  
  
Freedom she will never have so everything Regina did has been a waste, tragic loss after loss until she has been left with nothing.  
  
Leopold reaches out as Regina nears him and Snow smiles up at her.  
  
Regina closes her eyes and thinks of a book handed to her by a golden man with the promise that she never has to be powerless again, so when she looks up at Leopold, Regina smiles and smiles and smiles as he slips a golden ring on her left hand and Snow claps her hands with delight.  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
“It was the candle.  The one Cora gave me that could save my mother.”  The words tumble out of Mary Margaret’s mouth over soft hiccupping sobs that make Emma want to shake her.  “Rumplestiltskin told me it was the only way.  The only way to save him and stop Cora.  I thought I didn’t have a choice.  So I…I cursed Cora’s heart with the candle.  I gave her heart to Regina and told her—oh gods, what did I do?”  
  
Emma flinches away, the blood draining out of her face as she stares down at this woman, her mother, beautiful and pure _Snow White_ , who has done something so wrong, so _cruel_ , and she suddenly can’t breathe.  
  
“But you’re good.”  Henry’s voice lances through Emma then, and her eyes search for him frantically until they find him near the window and no, he shouldn’t hear this, shouldn’t know _this_ because she is supposed to protect him, keep him safe because that is what mothers do, that is what _good mothers_ do and somehow she keeps fucking it up.  
  
“Good doesn’t do that sort of thing,” Henry says, but his words lack his usual unwavering belief, the conviction that almost broke a curse all on its own.  He’s staring at her, like Emma can provide the answers he’s missing.  “Cora had to die.  You all said it.”  
  
“I told her she could finally have a real mother, a mother who could love her.  I said—she thought she would finally have a real _family_.”  Mary Margaret’s hollow voice falls with a crushing weight against Emma until she is sure that the world is going to come crashing down around them because oh _God_ , what have they _done_?  
  
“No!”  Henry wrenches away from Ruby and stands there, small chest heaving, eyes flashing with tears and anger.  
  
And maybe it isn’t the whole world crumbling, just this small one but worth so much more, one where her son believes that good is good and evil is evil and grey doesn’t exist because good people can only do good things and bad people can only do bad things and it isn’t supposed to happen like this, he is supposed to have _time_ because Emma lost so much when she was young and she had sworn never to let it happen to Henry, not when she could save him.  
  
Standing up, Emma says quietly, “Henry, get your jacket.  We need to go.”  
  
“My mom?”  
  
“Yeah, kid.  Come on.”  
  
David moves in front of her, arms outstretched, and Emma clenches her right hand into a fist because he has _no goddamn right_ , but he’s still her dad and maybe on a day when one woman has already killed her mother, it isn’t the time to alienate the parents she wanted for so long and now has no fucking clue what to do with them.  
  
Emma arches an eyebrow.  “Move.”  
  
In response, David clenches his jaw and seriously, Emma _will_ hurt him if he doesn’t move soon and Henry is standing at the door, hopping from one foot to the other, eyes dark and her leather jacket clutched tightly in his hands and fuck this, Emma never asked for this, never wanted to be the goddamn Savior but her kid is looking at her like she’s going to fix everything so of course she doesn’t have any choice.  
  
“Let them go, David,” Mary Margaret says from behind them, the words raw and aching.  
  
That’s all it takes for David to step enough to the side for Emma to rush past him, grab Henry’s hand, and walk out the door without looking back.  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
Snow trails her fingers lightly over Regina’s wooden jewelry box.  Picking up a jeweled hairbrush, she runs it through her curls and hums.

Then her gaze falls on a single white handkerchief stained with dark red spots.  She grasps it in trembling fingers and examines it, sees the elegantly stitched _R_ , catches a small whiff of apples and hay.  
  
Blood.  The blood is all Snow can see even as she clutches the white cloth close to her chest because no, no, _no_ , this _can’t_ happen again ( _handkerchiefs splattered with red shoved too late under a pillow when Snow walks in, shallow breaths, the cloying smell of death_ ).  
  
Snow runs and runs and runs until she finds somewhere dark to hide, somewhere that she can weep without being heard or seen, somewhere she can bury this darkness and know that this pain won’t find her again, that she can be safe and happy and warm and bright and _good_.  
  
They find her anyway but she refuses to move, curled into a small ball with the handkerchief tight in her hand, and even Johanna is unable to say or do anything that makes a difference.  
  
The cold of the stone walls is leeching into Snow’s skin when she hears the whisper of cloth, smells horses and hay and apples, and it is Regina’s quiet voice that finally makes her look up.  
  
“Snow, are you all right?”  
  
Snow just shakes her head and starts to cry again.  Regina is on the floor beside her in a moment, her blue velvet riding gown billowing out behind her as she wraps around Snow, her skin cold and pale from the winter outside.  
  
“What happened, dear?”  
  
Holding out the handkerchief, Snow whispers, “I found this.  When my mother was sick….”  
  
“Oh, _Snow_.”  Regina pulls her closer, and Snow watches her face, fascinated by the dark depths of her eyes, the sadness and brightness of someone so alive.  “I merely cut my finger last night.  I promise you, I am in very good health.”  
  
“You swear it?” Snow asks quietly, still looking for the signs of decay even as she wants to believe in what she is told but she remembers all too well the lies of last time when there was desperation and fear and so much pain that it still rises up and slices into her so deep that her breath catches in her lungs and her heart clenches so tight and her legs can’t carry her weight.  
  
Regina smiles down at her, a gentle hand cupping Snow’s cheek, and says, “I swear.”  
  
“I can’t lose you.”  Snow flings herself forward into Regina’s embrace and buries her face into Regina’s neck.  “I _can’t_.”  
  
“You’ll never lose me, Snow.”  
  
Snow lets the words fill her, takes the promise and holds it close in her heart and mind, and breathes, _breathes_ , until the fear retreats.  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
Henry bolts from the car even as Emma is rolling to a stop in front of Regina’s house and it takes her a moment, one split-second to think about where the hell they are and how the whole yard could be booby-trapped with magic.  So she shifts so fast into _park_ that her gears grind and throws herself after him even though he’s halfway up the sidewalk and he’s okay.  
  
“Henry!”  Emma just needs to catch up to him because no matter what he believes, it’s still her worst nightmare that Regina will whisk him away.  
  
Then the door opens and Regina is standing there, just staring at them, eyes wide as Henry bounds up the steps and throws himself at her.  And she looks at Emma, and her face, God, _her face_ is so filled with confusion and fear like this is some kind of trap, like Emma would use Henry to hurt her like this.  
  
But Henry is there with his arms so tight around Regina, almost sobbing as he keeps saying over and over, “I’m sorry.  I love you.  _I love you._ ”  
  
Regina pulls him closer and looks up at Emma.  “What are you doing here, Miss Swan?”  
  
Emma tries to hold her gaze but Regina’s brown eyes are so sad and lost and broken even though her voice is that familiar mix of condescension and irritation.  Emma looks away first, scuffs the toe of her boot against the porch.  
  
“I found out what happened,” is the way she starts but she can’t finish it because her words, her voice are so small and she refuses to make herself less in front of Regina.  
  
“I wanted to see you,” Henry butts in, and dear God, Emma loves this kid.  
  
Still eyeing Emma warily, Regina takes a step back and says, “Do you want to come in for a little while?  I have cookies and milk.”  
  
“Peanut butter chocolate chip?” Henry asks with his _I’m very serious_ face even as he’s already starting to bounce on his toes.  
  
“Of course, they’re your favorite.”  
  
Emma didn’t know that, and she looks at Regina who is looking at Henry with _love_ written all over her face and it hurts, _aches_ , for her to remember that there is so much she missed, so many things she will never have with Henry, never be for him.  She shuffles her feet, unsure of what exactly she’s supposed to do next and then Henry’s hand is suddenly in hers.  
  
“Emma, too,” he announces, chin raised in a show of stubbornness that feels like her own but looks like Regina’s.  
  
Regina hesitates and Emma can see the automatic dismissal, knows that Regina, too, is thinking of a time when there was no curse or magic and it was Emma who had to beg for scraps of time with Henry.  Emma wants to say _I’ll just wait here, I’ll be fine_ but the words catch in her throat because it still isn’t okay, she still can’t be sure that if she lets them go in there without her that Henry will come back out.  
  
Regina is still staring at her and there is something like a sad understanding in her eyes even as she straightens her spine because history always repeats itself in the worst ways.  Emma thinks _this is what I gave you_ , and even if Emma isn’t exactly sorry, it’s something.  
  
“Very well.”  Regina smiles down at Henry and pushes the door open as he runs inside.  
  
Regina follows after him, pointedly ignoring Emma’s presence, and Emma sighs before stepping over the threshold.  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
It’s late and cold by the time Regina leaves Snow in her bed and makes her way slowly to her own rooms, the blood-spotted handkerchief clutched in her hand over her heart.  She can still feel the faint throb in her palm where she had held Daniel’s ring so tightly it had cut through her skin.  
  
Her blood boils at the thought of Snow getting her little hands on anything that is touched by Daniel and his memory.  
  
She walks into her room and stops short at the sight of Leopold by the window.  Someone must have told him what happened with Snow and now he is here to _thank_ her, and Regina can already feel the stiffness spreading through her body, bile in her mouth.  
  
“Is Snow asleep?” he asks, and his voice is so gentle and warm that Regina truly wishes she could forget what he has done to her however unintentionally.  
  
“Yes.  I didn’t mean to frighten her but all is well now.”  Regina forces a smile onto her face.  “Are you to stay with me tonight?”  
  
“If you will have me?”  
  
And it shouldn’t even be a question because this is her duty and he knows it as well as she does.  She simply turns and starts to unfasten the buttons of her gown as she listens to him shed his clothes on the other side of the room.  She doesn’t look at him as she slides under the blankets, and in the dark, it is easier to not see, to barely even feel him as he slicks her with oil, attempts to bring her some satisfaction and comfort even as he pushes into her.  
  
Regina closes her eyes and breathes slowly, remembers _this is your reward_.  Blinking back tears, she stares up at the ceiling and sinks lower, lower into the bed until she can’t feel anything, doesn’t hear the desperate whisper of _Eva_ against her skin as he spills inside her.  
  
Then it is so quiet, and she listens to her heartbeat as it thumps steadily deep in her chest, her hand pressed to the skin above it, magic sparking across her fingertips.  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
Emma nibbles on a cookie and listens to Henry tell Regina all about Neal and their adventures in Manhattan.  It still twists a knife inside Emma’s chest to see Henry’s excitement over gaining a new parent because Henry is _hers_ , never Neal’s, but there isn’t anything she can do about it.  
  
It seems to all be flying over Regina’s head, though, the news that Henry has just gotten a “real” father who just so happens to also be Rumplestiltskin’s fucking son, because Regina is just sitting there listening with this soft smile on her face and her eyes never flickering away from Henry, not saying a word even though the kid seems intent on eating his weight in cookies.  Which are really fucking good.  
  
Eventually, Henry runs out of stories and he fidgets a little, legs kicking in the air because his feet still don’t quite reach the floor.  He cocks his head and studies Regina for a moment.  
  
“I’m really sorry about your mom,” he says quietly as he reaches across the table and places his hand on top of Regina’s.  
  
Regina stiffens all of a sudden, like she has forgotten what only happened earlier that day, but then she just gives Henry a watery smile and says, “Thank you, Henry.”  
  
Emma looks away.  Tears sting at the corners of her eyes because of all people, Henry seems to be the only person who can come close to understanding the pain Regina is experiencing, the pain of losing your mother that you love and the world hates.  And Emma is suddenly overwhelmingly grateful, more than ever before, that for all of Regina’s crimes, for all that Regina never knew what it was to be loved by her own mother, she was a good mom to Henry.  Still is, if Emma is honest, barring the whole “slaughter Snow White’s family” thing, because Emma is pretty sure if the tables were turned, she would have been willing to kill to get Henry back.  
  
Well, she would have thought about it.  
  
Maybe she would have thought about it.  
  
But maybe she kind of gets it.  
  
There really are no innocent parties in this mess.  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
As Regina pulls a comb through her long dark hair, Snow studies her carefully.  It’s been two years since Regina became her stepmother and Regina has remained the same while Snow has grown taller, her body softening slowly into curves.  
  
Snow’s father insists she is still his beautiful little girl; Snow feels like an ungainly colt with her too-skinny frame that is still more boyish than womanly.  
  
And now that she is fourteen, Snow is no longer allowed to spend her days only playing with the few friends she has among her father’s court.  
  
Being a princess is rather lonely, and Snow has noticed that Regina has seemed unhappy for a while now.  But Snow has a plan to hopefully fix all of that and make _everyone_ happy.  
  
“Do you think you’ll have a baby soon?” Snow asks, smiling.  
  
Regina stills then turns slowly in her chair to face Snow.  “I don’t know.  Why?”  
  
Snow sighs and falls back onto Regina’s bed, limbs sprawling.  “I’m lonely, and I don’t think you’re happy, and I think a baby brother or sister would be _wonderful._ Besides, I’m sure Father would like to have another child.  Don’t you want to have a baby?”  
  
She watches Regina, cheek pillowed against the soft bedcovers, looking for a sign that maybe there is already a child growing inside of Regina.  But there isn’t any sudden joy in Regina’s face at the prospect, no indication that she’s been holding a secret close that Snow has only just guessed at, and her dark eyes seem somewhere so far away, like always.  
  
“Regina?” Snow prompts gently, clambering off the bed to kneel in front of Regina, reaching up and taking Regina’s cool hands in hers.  “I didn’t mean to upset you.  I just thought—”  
  
“It’s all right, Snow, I know,” Regina murmurs.  She smiles then, bright and warm, and Snow basks in the affection.  “If I am to have a child, then I will.  But I already have you, dear.”  
  
“But don’t you want more?” Snow asks, tilting her head to the side and gripping Regina’s fingers tighter.  
  
Regina lets out a short laugh and turns back to face her mirror.  “Why would I ever want anything more than what you’ve given me, Snow?”  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
Henry clambers into the backseat of Ruby’s car and crosses his arms with a long-suffering sigh.  Emma grimaces, slams the door shut, and turns to glare at Neal.  
  
“I want you and Ruby to take Henry to the diner for a couple of hours.  I have to stay here and take care of some…stuff.”  Emma takes a step closer to Neal, makes sure to curl her right hand into a fist.  “Do not take him back to the pawn shop.  I don’t want your dad anywhere near Henry.  Got it?”  
  
“You’re acting like I’m just going to take the kid and run,” Neal says with a smirk that makes Emma twitch and consider punching him just for the hell of it.  
  
“It’s kind of what you do,” is what she settles for because she doesn’t need to add to any emotional damage Henry has already suffered today.  
  
Neal recoils and shrugs his shoulders.  “Yeah, point taken.”  
  
Ruby walks around to their side of the car as Neal gets in the passenger side and closes the door so hard that Ruby growls quietly before turning her attention to Emma.  
  
“I’ll make sure Henry stays safe,” Ruby tells her with a slight smile that looks just shy of feral, and Emma feels that worry coiled tight within her chest start to release and slink away.  “I just—is, is she okay?  Regina, I mean.”  
  
“You’re worried about Regina?”  Emma crosses her arms and frowns.  “Are you serious?”  
  
Ducking her head, Ruby rocks back on her heels, hands shoved deep in her jeans pockets.  “It’s just that I know what she’s going through.  Killing her own mother, on accident….  I did the same thing to save Snow.  Your mom.”  
  
It seems that Henry’s goddamned book _definitely_ didn’t tell all the stories from the Enchanted Forest and Emma really doesn’t fucking appreciate all these surprises.  “And you were okay with it?”  
  
“Of course not.  And knowing that, for Snow to do _what_ she did, even to Regina—” Ruby shakes her head, brown hair falling into her face.  “It was wrong.  Snow had no right, to do that to _anyone_.”  
  
“I know that,” Emma says quietly, so quiet as though she is guilty by association.  
  
“Okay.”  Ruby smiles again, this time a little wider and friendlier.  “Then fix it.”  
  
Emma watches Ruby walk to the driver’s side and climb in, the car starting up and pulling away from the curb.  She trudges back up the walk to where Regina is standing there waiting on the porch, and as Emma gets closer, she can see that Regina is nearly gouging the wood out of the door frame, white-knuckled with narrowed brown eyes.  
  
“That was Henry’s birth father?”  The words are curt, cutting and judgmental, her lip curling in a way that Emma is intimately familiar with and wishes she wasn’t.  
  
“Yeah, not all that much to him,” Emma replies.  
  
And she is now hit with how ridiculous this is, that they’re standing here talking about Neal who just happens to be Henry’s dad and Rumplestiltskin’s lost son and Regina has just killed her mom, and Regina is acting so fucking _normal_ that it’s more insane than just balls-out using her magic to fling Emma around the lawn.  
  
“I assume that you are here to intercede on your mother’s behalf?” Regina asks, and Emma blinks in response because, yeah, she didn’t think she’d get this far.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Always so articulate, Miss Swan.  Very well, if we must do this.”  
  
Regina simply sweeps her way inside the house in a purely regal fashion that leaves Emma wondering how exactly a deposed evil queen can make the title of _princess_ , even if Emma really doesn’t want it, seem absolutely meaningless.  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
Regina watches one of the stable boys lead her horse back to his stall, the sweetness of apples lingering on her fingertips.  Her hand twitches, she feels the magic rush inside her, thinks of how _easy_ it would be to take his heart, to hold his life in her hands and then she remembers, _remembers_ ….  
  
No.  She clenches her hands into fists instead and strolls into the stables, listening to the soft whinnies and snorts, the thud of hoofs against the dirt floor.  This is the closest she can get to feeling as though she is home again.  
  
It’s the only home she ever thinks about.  
  
She hears a giggle from the back where the shadows of the early evening are already falling silently; her feet move almost of their own accord, drawn to memories buried so deep, and she sees them.  
  
One of the stable boys—she has never learned their names, doesn’t even know their faces—has his arms around a girl, a servant from the palace.  They kiss, and something lurches inside Regina, a stab through her heart and the world turning sideways; she runs, runs until she finds fresh air and her knees give out and she vomits, retches again and again until she can taste the blood in her mouth.  
  
Magic crackles in her fingers, and she shudders once more, violent and trembling, nails digging into the dirt like claws as she remembers beating hearts and sweet hay and an even sweeter boy with blue-grey eyes and, oh, it would be so easy, so easy and _so good_ ….  
  
She rises to her feet slowly, spine straight and dirt streaked over her skirt, and the seconds pass with the pounding of the blood in her head as she walks back to her rooms where she bathes and changes.  She smiles at dinner even as Leopold ignores her in favor of lavishing all his attention on Snow, smiles though she is brittle and hard and cold, skin pulling tight at the edges and choking her.  
  
A lesson from so long ago:  _Love is weakness._  
  
The next morning, the stable boy and servant girl have gone missing and those who knew of their love only smile and shake their heads.  Regina pretends as though she can’t hear them, lets a false smile onto her face at the stories of true love conquering all.  
  
She remembers beating hearts held in her hands, dust slipping through her fingers, begging and tears and platitudes of love.  
  
She had been right:  it was easy.  
  
  
  
  
*****  
  
  
  
  
Emma curls her fingers around the glass of scotch Regina handed her and taps her foot against the carpeted floor, staring at Regina who is sitting across from her, sipping her drink and watching her with dark brown eyes.  
  
“You haven’t tried to kill me yet,” Emma says eventually.  
  
“No, I haven’t.”  Regina tilts her head, her mouth pressing into a thin line.  “Miss Swan, are you here to only point out the obvious, or do you have something you want?”  
  
Emma runs a hand through her hair, wincing when she tears through a tangle.  “Look, what happened, with Mary Mar—I mean, Snow, um, it wasn’t okay, and I know you’ve got to be pretty pissed about the whole killing your mom thing and since revenge is kind of your thing to do, I guess I’m just here to ask you to, well, let it go?”  
  
Taking a deep breath, Emma gulps down some scotch because she would have to be blind to miss the way Regina stiffens and hisses, eyes narrowing as the room fucking shakes a little bit.  
  
“Let it go?” Regina’s voice is low, too low as she pretty much almost snarls, “Your precious Snow White is responsible for my mother’s death.  She tricked me into—I will _destroy_ her for what she’s done.”  
  
“God, Regina, this is all fucked up.  I mean, Cora had to be stopped.  You can’t actually think we were going to let the two of you kill all of us?  What the fuck were we supposed to do?”  
  
“I don’t care about your reasons, Miss Swan.  Why would you think I would suddenly care now when I was attempting to kill your family?”  
  
“But you care about Henry,” Emma says quickly because the room has started shaking again, and she gets to her feet and glares down at Regina because she is _not_ intimidated.  “You love him.  And you know he will never forgive you if you kill Mary Margaret.”  
  
Regina shakes her head.  “And I’m supposed to just let this go?  Are you serious, Miss Swan?”  
  
“Well I can’t let you kill her.”  Emma crosses her arms over her chest and frowns.  “I mean, she’s my friend—she’s my _mom_ , Regina.  And, God, I don’t even know what to do with that because I already spent twenty-eight fucking years without her, but she’s my mom and I will _kill_ you if you kill her.”  
  
Regina stares up at her, eyes so dark they’re almost black, and, slowly, the room stops trembling as Regina crumples back into her chair, body limp.  She looks so lost and small, and Emma is almost afraid to even breathe because she doesn’t know what to do with this woman in front of her, someone so broken and hurt, a raw and aching open wound.  
  
“I’ve lost everything,” Regina murmurs.  “What do I have left?”  
  
“You have Henry,” Emma says immediately.  
  
“Do I?”  Regina is looking past her now, her right hand flexing in a way that makes Emma anxious.  “My mother, she tore out her own heart for power.  I just want it all to stop, I want to stop _feeling_ —”  
  
And then Regina plunges her hand deep into her own chest, twists her wrist in a way that makes Emma’s stomach lurch, and pulls it free, a glowing, beating _heart_ cradled in her palm.  
  
Regina stares at it, too, eyes wide with what Emma thinks might be fascination, and she says, “Maybe this is the only way.  You can have Henry and it won’t hurt anymore because I won’t care.  I won’t want revenge anymore so Snow will be safe.  And I can finally stop _trying_.”  
  
She moves first, and Emma can’t make her feet listen to her because she wants to run, run as hard as she can because this is fucking crazy but there’s a part of her that wonders _maybe_ and then Regina is putting her heart in Emma’s hand.  
  
“You can keep me from hurting anyone now,” Regina says quietly in a voice that sounds like it’s coming from so far away.  “Or you can crush it.”  
  
Emma shakes her head and steps back, her fingers slipping around the heart; she almost drops it before she flexes her fingers tighter to keep it secure, and she hears the gasp that comes out of Regina, sees Regina’s knees give and almost send her to the floor.  
  
Emma wants to throw up and the heart keeps throbbing in her hand, beating in a steady rhythm that it will only take a strong enough squeeze to stop.  
  
Moving slowly, Emma moves, one step then two, until she’s in Regina’s personal space, and Regina just looks at her without anger or hate or _anything._  
  
“This isn’t winning,” Emma says softly as she presses the heart against Regina’s chest and pushes until her hand slips under skin and through muscle and tissue and blood, pulling back when it’s done.  
  
“Why do you keep trying to save me?” It’s so quiet, so very quiet, and she can feel Regina’s breath whispering across her cheek.  
  
Emma ducks her head and puts some space between them.  “I just want to fix this.  Tell me how I can fix this.”  
  
Regina sighs and gives her a sad smile.  “You can’t.”  
  
“Please.”  
  
Because there is no point to any of this if it can’t get better, because there _has_ to be some way to make things right, because if she doesn’t bring back _all_ of the happy endings then what kind of fucking savior is she?  
  
But Regina just keeps on looking at her, like she’s staring right through Emma, and she finally straightens her spine, pushes her shoulders back, lifts her chin until she looks like a queen and nothing like a woman the world has tried so very hard to break.  
  
“We can have a truce.  I will not take any action against Snow White,” Regina tells her evenly.  
  
Emma rocks back on her heels, raising an eyebrow.  “And you don’t want anything.”  
  
“If my son—”  
  
“My son.”  
  
Regina’s nostrils flare and her eye twitches, but then she breathes and says through gritted teeth, “If _our_ son wishes to see me, then he shall.  You will not keep him from me.”  
  
And this is more, oh, so very much more than Emma thought possible, so she just nods her head and watches Regina pour herself more scotch and drink it all down like it doesn’t burn and maybe it doesn’t when something else hurts _more._  
  
She can’t think of anything that she can say or do that won’t ruin this uneasy peace, so Emma just mutters a rushed goodbye and lets herself out.  
  
She doesn’t look back, not even when she hears anguished sobs that follow her across the porch, down the stairs, and down the sidewalk.


End file.
